For fly fishers of my generation, releasing the fish we catch has long been an unquestioned part of the sport. What began more than 30 years ago as a fringe movement has become simply the way it’s done. I have friends who’ve landed thousands of trout and literally have no idea what they taste like. Clearly, our limited resources make catch-and-release a necessary management tool, but I wonder, does it really justify the moral high ground so many of us want to claim?

What began more than 30 years ago as a fringe movement has become simply the way it’s done.

Catch-and-release does not mean fish populations are unaffected by our activities. In the fragile, coldwater species — trout, salmon, steelhead — commonly targeted by fly anglers, the incidental mortality rate for released fish can range from 5 percent to 10 percent. So who has a greater impact on the resource — the fly angler who releases 50 trout and keeps fishing, or the “meat” fisherman who kills two for dinner and quits? Who holds the moral high ground here?

Now, I am not advocating we kill and eat everything we catch. Nor am I suggesting we stop fishing. But I think it’s worth examining the deeper questions involved. To many Native Americans, the very act of sport fishing — pure recreation at the expense of another living creature — is an unconscionable sin. For me, it’s not about whether fish feel pain, but how we as anglers feel about what we’re doing. Am I ready to give up my cherished catch-and-release fishing? In a word, no. But the moral high ground? I’m already gone.